


The top of hope supposed the root upreared shall be

by blackkat



Series: Horoscope Drabbles [38]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 23:56:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17396180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: Kakuzu can hear the valley singing.





	The top of hope supposed the root upreared shall be

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Normal Horoscopes on Tumblr:
> 
> Ophiuchus: The trees here are covered in holes. When the wind blows just right you can hear the whole valley sing.

Kakuzu can hear the valley singing.

The reality of the sound is startling. He’d heard the stories, thought them gross exaggerations spun by fanciful travelers looking to entertain an audience. Had assumed the wind moaned loudly here, or the trees rubbed together in strange ways but—

He wasn’t prepared for them to actually sing.

Bemused, he pauses at the edge of the trail leading down into the bowl of the valley, listening for a long moment. Like flutes, he thinks, and it’s the closest thing he can come up with to match the sound. Light, eerie, washing over the forest in waves that change in pitch and tune. He’s heard minstrels and singers without nearly as much talent as these trees, and it’s amusing to consider.

The source is easy enough to find, as soon as he’s over the lip of the valley and headed down. The trees have holes carved into their trunks, different sizes and different positions, and the wind sighs through them. Very much like flutes, and Kakuzu pauses, running his finger around one carving. The trees seem perfectly healthy despite what’s been done to them; if anything, they might be healthier and more verdant in their growth than the trees that line the other side of the mountain. It’s intriguing, and Kakuzu lingers under the branches for a moment, then keeps walking. He’s here to hunt down a bounty, not admire the scenery.

It’s hard to overlook it, though. The murmuring song follows him down into the valley, past massive stands of towering trees, and the force of the music is bone-deep and unsettling, the pitch of it almost seeming to touch Kakuzu’s soul. He twitches under its spell, not sure if he wants to run or fight, turns to scan the forest behind him—

When he turns back, there's a path between the trees.

“Fucking _figures_ ,” Kakuzu mutters, because no one mentioned magic to him. Then again, the bounty seemed suspiciously high for having as few attempts as it did, and Kakuzu’s willing to admit he’s new to this part of the country. The City Guard probably neglected to tell him a hell of a lot.

Carefully, warily, Kakuzu loosens his sword in its sheath and starts forward, trying to keep his steps as light as possible. There's nothing stirring that he can feel, nothing beyond the flute-song wind and the warmth of the sunlight. The path is clear, too, and lined with white stones that are smooth underfoot. At the end of it is a low wooden fence, a gate of branches bent into shape, and a garden beyond, lush and green and growing. There's a cabin, too, small but neat, and almost completely covered in greenery.

The eerie song around him curls with the wind, rises higher, and Kakuzu’s breath catches.

In the midst of the green is a man, sprawled out across the grass. He matches the bounty-picture Kakuzu was given, but—not precisely. More vivid, in real life, than a sketch could ever hope to be, and there's power soaked into his skin so thoroughly that Kakuzu can hardly see anything beyond it. A green power, like old-growth and ages past, and Kakuzu comes to a stop at the edge of the fence and watches Hashirama sleep for a long, long moment.

 _I know you_ , he wants to say, but isn't sure if it’s because he’s seen the man in passing, or maybe in a dream. Or maybe he’s seen a forest grown rampant and untouched before, and this simply feels the same.

Before he can decide, there's a breath, and Hashirama turns his head. Dark eyes slide open, warm and lazy, and he raises an arm, curls his fingers like he’s calling Kakuzu to him.

“You're not here for your own reasons,” he says. “Why don’t you leave them there?”

It’s tempting. Kakuzu wants to, wants to drop his sword and the bounty poster and step inside, see if Hashirama’s brown skin is as sun-warm as it looks. But something holds him back, some thread of caution that’s never trusted magic or anything else that can't die at the edge of his sword.

“This is an enchantment,” he says, harsh, accusing. “You're spelling me.”

It gets him a blink, and Hashirama pushes up to sit. “Enchantment?” he says, and that tone is honestly confused. “The only enchantment here is the one to keep enemies from getting into the valley.”

 _I'm your enemy,_ Kakuzu almost says, but the words die stillborn on his tongue. “I know you,” he says instead, and that’s an accusation too.

Hashirama laughs, warm and heady, and the gate creaks open on its own. “A good hunter always knows the forest,” he says, as if it’s a joke, but there's a seriousness in his eyes, a warmth.

Kakuzu feels the weight of the wind-song, pushing him forward. Takes a step, and it’s hard, but the next one is easier, and the one after that is simpler still. He steps through the gate, reaches out, and Hashirama laughs and reaches back.

His skin is just as warm as it looks.


End file.
